


How many Tuesdays has it been?

by RedHairedGoddess1



Series: Supernatural Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:26:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHairedGoddess1/pseuds/RedHairedGoddess1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Imagine Sam and Dean driving in the Impala and Sam starts to drift off. Suddenly, Heat of the Moment starts playing on the radio and his head snaps up and he immediately asks, “What day is it?” Dean just chuckles and says, “It’s Tuesday.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	How many Tuesdays has it been?

**Author's Note:**

> (=^.^=)

“Damn I hate demons.” Dean groaned. He fell into the open door of the Impala in a heap. Blood covered his knuckles and there was a stab wound on his shoulder. Sam folded himself into the car, likewise groaning. A headache was building in the back of his head where the demon had slammed him into a wall. The hunt hadn’t been easy. Three demons having a party with a local school teacher playing the part of piñata. The Winchesters had of course intervened. 

 

They weren’t getting any younger and with each hunt, the boys could feel the ache in their limbs. Dean’s back popped more than normal. Sam had nearly collapsed upon finding a white hair in his glorious mane. This hunt nearly had Dean ready to throw his hands up and declare retirement. Sam would have happily agreed.

 

Dean started the engine and pulled away from the burning house. Unfortunately, the vessels were already dead, they couldn’t have saved them. Or the school teacher who had been dead upon their arrival. They killed the demons, called the local PD and after pulling the teacher’s body from inside, set the house aflame. 

 

Now they were on their way back to the bunker and Sam sighed, “I am going to sleep for a week.”

 

“Same here brother. I think those demons got a little too stab happy. And thrown the Winchesters around the room happy.”

 

Sam gestured at Dean’s shoulder, “Want to pull over so I can sew that up?”

 

The other just shook his head, “Nah. Ain’t even bleeding anymore. It can wait. I just want to get home, eat some food, shower and hit the sack.”

 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m gonna catch some shut eye. Wake me if you need me to drive.” 

 

Sam settled into the seat, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Dean leaned forward to flip the radio on to a soft rock station. Kind of tunes that always put Sam right to sleep.

 

The older Winchester kept his gaze glued to the road but his mind wandered. Maybe it was time to retire. The new generation of hunters were coming out already. Claire had already taken down her first vampire nest solo. Dean thought it was high time they handed the mantle to someone younger. He would never complain (much), but Dean knew Sam felt the same way. They were getting old. Maybe they could get a dog. Dean chuckled. 

 

The next couple of miles were smooth. Styx faded to a close and there was a moment’s silence before the next song. Dean was still lost in thought. He almost missed the days where they traveled the country, kicking ass and taking names. It felt like they got their asses handed to them more often than naught now. Scarecrow monsters, insect curses, and petty ghosts. The good old times. But at least now they had a home to go to. In spite of the small monsters and demons, the world was quiet now. Maybe he could see his brother finally live a life. 

 

XXX

 

Sam dozed. Not sleeping, his head throbbed to much for that but it was a nice little drifting of the mind. He lost himself in a light fog of sleep. The radio played lowly. Whatever Styx song was playing coaxed him closer to sleep.

 

Demons. Little more than petty thugs now that they were on better terms with Crowley. The King kept his fingers out of the Winchester’s business and closely monitored his demons. If a person voluntarily sold their soul to hell, Sam and Dean really couldn’t interfere. As long as no innocents died, everyone got along.

 

Heaven was quiet. Castiel lived permanently at bunker now. He was pretty much human, grace gone. But he didn’t die from its loss. He simply became mortal. Wore pajamas, drank coffee, slept in on Sundays. He didn’t hunt with the boys. He didn’t want to. He chose to stay at the bunker and help if Sam or Dean called him. The former angel spent some of his time catching up with his daughter by proxy, Claire, when she stopped by. They laughed, watched Netflix and got along. Sam was proud of their blue eyed friend. 

 

Sam had been thinking about getting Dean to follow in Castiel’s footsteps and declare retirement. He was tired. Tires of cuts, bruises, and the smell of gun powder on his hands. He wanted to be normal now. Well as normal as a Winchester could ever be. He had a feeling that Dean and he would step into the roles of their mentors. Sam would be Bobby. Helping hunters with research and tricky hunts. On call as the fake head of whatever agency. He could do that. Dean would be Rufus. In denial about his age, cranky and half drunk. Sounded nice.

 

Styx was fading. Sam was trying to see himself wearing a trucker’s cap but failing horribly when the next song came on.

 

//It was the heat of the moment!//

 

Sam nearly cracked his head on the ceiling he lunged up so fast. He stared around the car wildly to look at Dean. His brother had nearly lost his grip on the wheel at Sam’s movement.

 

Sam was almost hyperventilating, “What day is it?”

 

Dean smiled and chuckled lightly, “Chill dude. It’s Tuesday. Mystery Spot is way in the past.”

 

The other Winchester nodded though it was forced. How many Tuesdays had he been forced to live? He could now understand Gabriel’s reasons behind the  
whole affair but it had scarred him in more than one way. He took a deep breath.

 

Dean smiled over at him, singing along. His green eyes were lit up by the sun, small lines at the corners of his mouth from grinning. There were ghosts of pain in those lines but the happiness mostly kept the ghosts away. Sam felt his muscles relax.

 

Mystery Spot was years in the past. It was the end of an era. The end of their era. Time for the new generation. 

 

Sam smiled slightly at his brother, mouth mumbling the words of the song despite how much he used to hate it. 

 

Then the truck hit them. A semi-truck no less. It smashed into Dean’s side and sent them off the road, rolling multiple times. Sam couldn't see. Everything was blurry. It moved to fast.

 

Then it stopped. They were still. Right side up with the wheels on the ground. Sam groaned in renewed pain, blood in his mouth. His rolled to look out the window. The truck driver appeared to be either dead or unconscious.

 

“Dean?” Sam grunted but then called a bit louder, head turning, “Dean-”

 

His brother was looking right at him. Green eyes and all. But they were empty, his neck at a loose angle. It was broken. He looked straight at Sam but saw nothing. Sam was frozen. No…

 

“DEAN!!”

 

//It was the heat of the moment//


End file.
